


Lost in the Darkness

by SpencerRemyLvr



Category: Criminal Minds, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt Remy, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Self-Harm, Slow Build, Slow To Update, Slow Updates, Soap opera lol, Suicide Attempt, This is my hurt Remy fic, Triggers, You've been warned lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5420915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpencerRemyLvr/pseuds/SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story that shows us a different side of Remy, the part of him that's hidden underneath the carefree masks and the playful persona that he puts forward. Follow him as he hits rock bottom and slowly, slowly drags himself back up again</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Angry words echoed through Remy’s head as he sat on the balcony of his hotel room and stared out at the night sky. The very air seemed to carry the echo of Rogue’s furious voice though he’d long ago hung up the phone. For the first time in a long time there was a part of him that knew that this ‘break up’ that they’d just had was a final one. There was no coming back this time. No two week break while she worked out her temper or he worked out his. When she’d said she was done this time, she’d meant it. His relationship with the feisty woman was over.

Somehow, despite his best efforts, despite how hard he’d tried this time to be what she needed, he’d failed yet again. He’d managed to finally destroy his relationship with her.  

Remy stared out into the distance, not really seeing anything. It was a nice view. _“Only the best for you”_ Spencer had teased him earlier when they’d checked Remy in here.

None of it touched him now. How could it? The phone call he’d just finished had shattered the little world that he’d worked so hard to build for himself since he’d joined the X-Men.

When Remy had joined the X-Men, he’d vowed to leave the past in the past. He’d tried to make himself into someone new, someone _better_. After everything that had happened in his life, after _Sinister_ , he’d needed that new start. He’d needed to become someone that he could be proud of. That meant leaving the darker stuff behind him. No more questionable jobs, no more working for people who would trick him into doing horrendous things. No, Remy was going to be good. He was going to be a hero, not a villain. So he’d joined the X-Men and he’d worked to make up for all the things that he’d done in his life. He worked to honor those that had died because of his stupidity. Part of that new life he’d built for himself had been Rogue. Sweet, wonderful, sassy Rogue. Remy had given himself to her heart and soul and never once looked back.

Now—now it was gone.

She said that he didn't love her. That she'd known for a while now he'd loved another. What kind of person was he that he couldn't deny it? What kind of partner had he been that the woman he’d professed to love had known he'd also loved someone else? Not only that, but that it was another _man_. He hadn't been able to deny her accusations. They all rang too true in his mind.

Disgusting, she'd called him. A pervert. Those were the words life had taught her to use to describe people like that. People like _him_. They were wrong and sick.

It wasn’t the first time in his life that he’d heard that. Someone who looked the way that Remy did couldn’t get through life without hearing the taunts of ‘fag’ and ‘freak’ thrust his way. Especially during that time where his charm had been out of control; a time in his past that Remy still shuddered a little to think of. Ever since then, he’d worked so hard to try that part of himself, the part that sometimes gave a happy little shiver when a man smiled at him a certain way, or he saw a man walk past in a pair of well-fitting jeans. He’d tried so hard over the years to make that part of himself go away. To throw himself into a normal life, marry a beautiful woman. But she never made his heart stir the way _he_ did.

The world he'd worked so hard to build was crashing down around him. He'd erected the image of a perfect life for the whole world to see. A doting partner, a good—albeit cocky and sassy—team member, a good friend. Everything that someone could expect of him. He’d carefully built this house of cards. Now, it had all come tumbling down, and Remy had no idea what to do.

There was a part of him that had always sort of known that the only reason he’d really been accepted with the X-Men was that he was dating Rogue and that Logan vouched for him. If it weren’t for those two things, he was sure he would’ve been gone years ago. Now that he and her weren’t together, now that she knew the truth about him, he knew it wouldn’t take long before everyone else did as well. How long would they want to keep him around then?

It wouldn’t take long for word to spread once they kicked him out of the house. Rogue wouldn’t keep quiet. All it would take was one word in the right ear and plenty of people would be willing to trade gossip about the infamous Gambit.

Remy looked down at the small butterfly knife he held in his hands. He flipped it expertly until the blade was open.

It wouldn’t take much. He always kept his blades so very sharp. Just a few quick moves and he could lay here in the evening air and wait for release. No one would be by to check on him until the morning. Though he’d come here to visit Spencer, his friend was on a case and wasn’t due back until later tonight. He’d probably just go home and come to find Remy in the morning time.

A part of him thought of the grief and pain he’d be causing Spencer. The two had been best friends for a long, long time town. Finding Remy like this would devastate him. It’d almost destroyed him the last time that Remy had sank this low. Spencer had been the one to find him then, too. And he’d been the one to stay at Remy’s side, to help him through the months of therapy that came afterwards, the long stay at the hospital. Spencer had been there through all of it. Remy had promised himself once he got better that he would never again hurt his friend that way. In a better frame of mind, the reminder might’ve stopped Remy. Tonight, it was lost underneath the cacophony of voices that were all screaming around inside of Remy’s head. “ _Je suis désolé_.” He murmured, turning the knife this way and that, caught up in the slight shine on the clean blade. It wouldn’t be clean for long.

Before he could lose courage, his grip on the knife became tighter, more sure. It was quicker and easier than people might’ve thought for him to place it against his skin and drag it from wrist to elbow. There was a sharp burn, a quick line of fire, followed almost immediately by a blessed numbness. He watched with a curious detachment as the blood pooled down. Who knew there was so much blood in a person?

Remy never really noticed as he sank down to the ground, slumped against the balcony rails. He couldn’t take his eyes from the blood as it flowed from his arm with a speed that told him he’d cut deeper than he’d thought.

It would all be over soon. He wouldn’t have to live with the guilt or the shame. He wouldn’t have to live knowing just how broken and dirty he really was.

Only vaguely did he hear an odd sound coming from somewhere nearby. It took him a moment to pull up out of his own head and listen enough to place it as knocking. Knocking? Oh, well. It was probably just housekeeping. They’d go away soon enough. Dizzy and tired, he laid his head down on the ground. The cool floor of the balcony felt wonderful. His mind spun, and a smile curved his lips. He could see the puddle of blood growing and knew that he was almost there. _So close_.

How long he lay there, he didn’t know. The world around him sort of faded away from him. But then a loud noise, almost like a gunshot, broke suddenly through his haze. Then there was a voice shouting at him and Remy felt a small surge of annoyance. Who was that?

It came again, louder this time. “Remy!”

A pair of hands were suddenly on him and Remy felt his body being turned. There was a low hissing sound and then curses. A part of Remy’s brain knew that voice and wondered at the oddity of hearing it curse. _He never curses_. The rest of him was too far gone to care. At least, not until his bleeding arm was lifted and he could see through half-lidded eyes that something was being wrapped around that arm. That was enough to drag part of Remy back to a semi-alert state. He tried to pull away, tried to stop them, but the weakness had spread through his whole body. _They're too late anyways_ he thought.

“Don’t you dare leave me, Remy LeBeau. Don’t you _dare_. You promised me, do you hear me? You promised me you wouldn’t do this to me again!” That voice came again and this time Remy’s brain was alert enough to actually put a name to it.

If he could have, he would’ve laughed. How ironic. The man who was the cause of all this, rescuing him? This man was the reason he’d been unfaithful to Rogue to begin with.

Even in the depth of all his pain, it still registered in him that he felt _his_ arms around him, holding him close like he was something precious, something _loved_. It felt so nice. Remy couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him like that. It felt so nice. Who could blame him for leaning in to it and enjoying it? He was dying anyways. What would it hurt to enjoy, just for a bit, the feel of the man he loved.

His wrapped up arm was drawn in against his chest by a grip that was stronger than it looked and then Remy found himself being twisted a little and pulled a little more into those arms. It left his arm trapped against his chest, the pressure there tight, and gave Spencer a free hand with which to pull out his phone. Through his growing haze, Remy heard Spencer's voice speaking, barking out something at someone in a voice that was rougher than his usual tone.

Then two arms were around him again and Remy felt it as Spencer bent down low. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until he felt Spencer's cheek pressing against his. “Don’t you dare let go, Rem.” Spencer said shakily. “We’ll fix this, you and I. We did it last time and we’ll do it again. I just need you to hang on, do you hear me? I need you. _I need you_.”

Something in Remy wanted to respond. Really, it did. But he felt himself sliding underneath the darkness. Even as it started to pull him under, he heard the footsteps pounding through his room. _Too late_ he thought. He wondered if it was true. Had he succeeded, or had he failed? He drifted in and out of consciousness, always knowing that Spencer’s arms were around him, that he was being protected.

New voices pulled him back up for a moment. Voices speaking in clipped tones, moving him in ways that brought the pain back.

“Lost a lot of blood”

“Gotta get him in fast.”

“Start an IV now!”

and behind them all, Spencer’s voice. “Be careful with him! Remy, I’ll be right behind you. I’ll be there, Remy! Don’t you give up now. I promise, I’ll be there!”

He wanted to answer, but this time the blackness came stronger. It sucked him down to the blessed place where nothing hurts, where nothing is real. He was safe.

* * *

When Derek Morgan had gotten the panicked call from his best friend, all he’d been able to understand from him was that Remy was in the hospital. That had been enough to get Derek moving. He’d met Spencer's friend years ago and he’d built up a rather good friendship with him since then. It was kind of hard not to like him. Remy had one of those personalities that made people either love or hate him, or love him even as they hated him. And Spencer was always happier whenever Remy was around. For that alone, Derek had been willing to like him.

When he arrived at the hospital, he’d been terrified of what he was going to find. A car crash, an attack, those were the type of things he’d expected. He definitely hadn’t expected _this_.

Suicide. Remy had attempted suicide.

Of all the people in the world, the last one that Derek would’ve suspected of being suicidal was Remy. He always seemed so damn happy. He had this love for life that was insanely infectious. How could someone like that end up like _this_? Derek was a profiler. He was trained to see things that other people didn’t. How had he not seen this? There should have been signs. Indications that Remy was this depressed.  How’d he missed it? How had _Spencer_ missed it?

His gaze drifted over to the man sitting tucked into the corner. His silent, terrified friend who was sitting curled up in a hospital chair, knees up to his chin, staring at the same doors that he’d been staring at since Derek had arrived. He hadn’t moved at all from his chair. Not even to go and clean up. And that—that had terrified Derek when he’d first rushed in. Spencer's hands, face and clothes all had blood on them, though it looked like someone had tried to help him clean off just a little if the damp rag on the chair beside him was any indication. Even so, he still looked like some horror show reject and the others in the emergency room were very deliberately avoiding getting close to him.

The blood was bad enough, but it was his eyes that got to Derek. They were wide and glazed with a look that Derek knew was shock.

It’d been the nurses who had explained to Derek what was going on. It’d also been them who had handed Derek the scrubs for Spencer to change into if he could just get his friend into a bathroom to clean up.

It was now or never. Derek drew in a careful breath and slowly approached his young friend, moving just as cautiously as he would with any victim they encountered on a case. He pushed down his own fear and his own inner pain and focused all his attention on Spencer. “Reid?” he called softly. Spencer didn’t look up, didn’t break his stare on the door leading back to the OR. “Spencer?” Derek tried again, hoping the use of Spencer's actual name would be enough to get his attention. He sank down into the empty chair next to him and reached out to gently put a hand on Spencer's arm. Silently he took his own coat off and draped it around his friend.

Now that he was close, he took a second to give Spencer a quick look over and what he saw worried him. He knew that look, knew those shaking hands. Derek put aside trying to get Spencer up and changed and settled for something much simpler. Reaching out, he took one of Spencer's hands and pulled it into his own. He ignored the dried blood there and simply held his best friend's hand in an effort to give and receive comfort.

They sat there in quiet for so long it was a surprise when Spencer finally spoke. “There was so much blood.” His voice was low and hoarse, a pained sound that Derek hadn’t heard since Spencer's withdrawal days as he came down off the Dilaudid. His eyes never moved away from the door. “I could feel it when I knocked on the door. I could feel the depression. Usually, he’s got such strong shields, there’s no way to break past them. But I could feel his emotions everywhere. Depression, pain, grief— _relief_. I knew what was going on and what it meant so I shot the lock off the door and I hurried inside. He was just,” Spencer's breath hitched and Derek saw the sheen of tears building in his eyes. “There was blood everywhere. I didn’t know what to do. All my training and I didn’t know what to do. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his arm to try and stop the blood, but there was _so much_.” His voice hitched an dhe stopped, obviously trying to control himself.

“Did he say anything?” Derek asked.

Spencer shook slightly, the tremor running from head to toe. “His phone was on the ground. He kept…he kept sounding like he was trying to say sorry. I don’t know.” Finally his eyes turned away from the door and they locked on Derek. There were tears there, slowly leaking down his cheeks. He looked like a child, terrified and seeking comfort. His whispered words broke Derek’s heart even further. “Will he be okay? He…I need him to be okay, Derek. I just, I need them to come tell me he’s okay. Why won’t they come tell me?”

Before Derek could think of a response, the double doors swung open. A doctor came out in scrubs that were blotched and stained with red and the two men froze.

“Dr. Reid?” The man called. At a gesture from Derek, he came forward and his eyes instantly went to Spencer. Before Spencer could open his mouth to ask the question he was obviously terrified to say, the doctor quickly said “Mr. LeBeau is going to be fine.” He waited as Spencer and Derek both visibly relaxed. After giving them a second to let that sink in, he continued on. “It’s going to take a bit of time to heal. He lost a lot of blood and we’ll need to keep him for a while to replace what he lost. You’re very lucky you got to him when you did.” He paused and Derek just knew what was coming next. He’d seen this enough to know how it went. Sure enough, “We’re going to bring a psychiatrist in to speak with him. At minimum he's going to be held for seventy two hours. As soon as he's in recovery, you can visit, one at a time, for five minutes.”

The words didn’t look like they’d sunk in for Spencer quite yet. Derek, still holding his friend’s hand, nodded at the doctor. “Thank you.”

The doctor nodded back. His eyes flickered over to Spencer, who had closed his eyes once more, and then back to Derek. “I suggest you take your friend and get him cleaned up. By the time he’s done, your friend should be ready and a nurse can escort you back there.” With that last bit of advice, he turned around and left them there, two friends clinging together in grief and open relief. Remy was going to be fine. He’d survived. Right now, that was all that was important. He’d survived. The rest, they would deal with as it came.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I know the procedure of seeing a patient for five minutes every hour isn’t common in most hospitals. Especially when someone’s placed on a ‘72’. However, I’m going off of the experience I had, plus a few small details changed to suit the story. If it seems unrealistic to you or anything like that, I apologize.

The world was floating around Remy. It was nice; kind of like lying on the clouds. There’d been pain before, somewhere, but it was gone now. All of it was gone. There was only the clouds supporting him and keeping him safe. Was this Heaven? Had he managed to do it and God had taken him anyways? People had called him the devil for so long because of his eyes and yet he was here, floating through the clouds. Remy smiled and let himself drift.

Voices kept ringing around him, pulling at him, trying to bring him down out of the clouds. There was someone speaking his name, talking to him. It sounded like—Derek? Remy ignored it and let himself drift some more. He thought he heard someone else at some point as well. JJ? Will? It sounded like…like they were crying.

The clouds slowly faded around him and it felt like a slow fire started to build. This was it, then. He'd been wrong. God hadn't taken him. As the fire burned hotter, Remy was sure he was drifting to Hell. As the fire grew and grew, he thought heard Spencer's voice calling out to him, saying his name. Was this to be his hell then? To burn for eternity, listening to the voice that had tempted him into sin? What was it saying, anyways? He tried to make his mind focus through the fire.

“…Remy, God, you scared me so bad. I’ve been so scared.” A soft sniffle then. Was Spencer crying? The thought surprised Remy enough that it cleared his brain a little more. He felt himself leaving the hazy place around him and slowly moving back towards reality. It was enough for his brain to finally start to realize that no, this wasn’t hell. The fire wasn’t all around him anymore. It was coalescing in one place, all of it right there in his arm.

Other sounds came to him. The soft rustle of movement the sound of air blowing somewhere, and a familiar beeping sound. Remy’s brain kicked a little more into gear. A hospital. He was in a hospital.

“Do you realize how many people would miss you if you left us?” came Spencer's voice again, startling him out of his thoughts. The sound of tears was thick in Spencer's voice and it broke Remy’s heart and made the guilt worse. He’d made Spencer cry. Dammit, after all these years, all this time he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t hurt him, he’d gone and made Spencer cry. Remy hated himself a little more for it with each tearful word that Spencer said. “Do you realize how much _I_ would miss you, Rem? God, I sound selfish. I sound so selfish. Here you are hurting, more than you let on and more than I’d realized, and I’m talking about myself. But, dammit, do you realize how many people love you? How much _I_ love you?” The way he said that sounded different to Remy. Not the same kind of love. What was Spencer telling him? Was he dreaming? “They won’t let me stay in here, Rem. They almost didn't let me in because they only let family in here. But I pitched a fit you would have been proud of. Luckily, Morgan talked to them and they let me in. But I only get five minutes.”

Something touched Remy's hand. He wished he could get through the haze on his brain. Why couldn't he? The answer came quickly once he really tried to focus on it. Morphine. The hospital had to have given him morphine. That was surprisingly one of the few pain medications that worked on him, though it was kind of hit or miss. It always worked a little too well, or barely at all. This time it left him feeling held down, but it was letting go, little by little. He twitched his hand, trying to move it, only to find that something around his wrist held him down.

His movement must’ve alerted Spencer to the fact that he was waking up. Remy felt a warm hand close around his and he didn’t bother trying to move away. He was already damned; what did it matter if he took solace from the one person he wanted and could never have? “Don’t move, Remy.” Spencer told him gently. “We don’t need you tearing your stitches. Just, stay still for me, okay? Stay still and rest.” There was a noise nearby and then Remy heard Spencer take a careful, slightly shuddering breath. His hand briefly clenched over Remy’s. “I’ve got to go now for a bit, Rem, but I’ll be back to see you, I promise. I won’t be far. I’ll sleep in the waiting room and come in for the five minutes they let us every hour. I promise you, I’m not going to leave your side through any of this. We made it through last time and we’re going to make it through again. Just, please, hold on. Please. I love you.” This time the tears were unmistakable. Spencer _was_ crying. Part of Remy ached to reach out and hold him; the other part shouted at him that this was why he was in this mess and that he would only drag Spencer down with him.

Spencer's hand disappeared from his and then someone else was there, doing something. Usually Remy would fight it but he didn’t even bother trying. What was the point? He didn’t care. He just didn’t care.

The fire slowly went away and he was back in the clouds again. He embraced it, relished in the feeling of nothing. If only he could never leave here. If only he could stay.

* * *

True to his word, Spencer picked a chair in the waiting area and sat himself down in it, intent on staying there for an hour until they let him in again. He couldn’t even begin to think of going home. Not now. Not while Remy was lying down there _strapped down_ to a hospital bed. He’d already warned the doctors that Remy wasn’t going to react too well if he woke up to that. There was no way Spencer could just leave his friend here to all this. He needed to be there when Remy woke. He needed to be there to help him. Apparently he hadn’t been there near often enough for him lately. Not if he’d managed to get like this again without Spencer noticing.

In the years that Spencer had known Remy, he’d been able to both see and feel his friend’s depression. It’d always been a part of him in some way or another. Depression wasn’t something that just ‘went away’ like some people thought. It was an ongoing illness that a person battled near constantly. Medications could help that battle, as could a good support system, but in the end it was a war that a person waged. Oftentimes silently, with no one any the wiser.

Spencer's empathy had always given him a unique perspective on depression. It made him more susceptible to it, he knew, because he so easily picked up on other people’s emotions and they could get so overwhelming. But he’d learned how to shield quickly and he mostly kept himself buffeted from those kinds of things. Still, he felt it. He’d always been able to feel it in Remy. Sometimes it was barely there and sometimes it was this great big gaping wound inside of him. Like this big ball of darkness that tried to seep through his body and take him over. Only no one else ever seemed to know what was going on because Remy had long ago learned the art of putting on an act. He never let anyone see that part of him. Well, anyone but Spencer.

Lifting his hands, Spencer pushed them through his hair and sighed. He rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. How could he not have seen this coming? How had he missed the signs that it was getting this bad again? He should’ve known what to look for. He’d been there the last time this happened.

Spencer had been the one to find him then, too. Curled up in the bathtub at some nasty little motel in the backside of nowhere, a full bottle of Jack on the ground and an empty bottle of pills lying nearby. That had been right after the Morlocks. Back then, Spencer had pretty much known what he was going to find. He’d known that it was building in his friend. So when Remy had vanished on him, he’d done everything he could to track him down. They’d told him that he was just in time that time, too.

God, he needed a drink. It wasn’t often in Spencer's life that he’d ever had a thought like that. The addict inside of him whispered for something else, something _more_ , but he pushed that down. He just wanted a drink. Something to chase off the dull edge of shock. To wash away the bitter taste that sat in his mouth and in his gut. Maybe then he could chase away the image in his brain of Remy lying on that stupid balcony in a puddle of his own blood.

Damn his memory! He tried to close his eyes against the image but it was no use. Open or closed, he could still see it. Still smell the coppery tang of all that blood in the air. Rushing out there, it’d been like walking into a crime scene. The part of his brain that had been trained for that had started analyzing everything and trying to figure out what to do and how much blood Remy had lost. The rest of him had panicked at seeing the man he loved almost gone.

Lost in thought, Spencer didn't hear anyone approach, nor did he feel them. So when a pair of hands gently settled on the outside of each of his knees, he almost jumped out of his skin. His eyes shot wide open and he looked in front of him only to find Logan kneeling there, looking up at him with a look of so much damn sorrow on his face that it just made Spencer's heart ache even more.

He’d called Logan back when he’d called Derek. The man was Remy’s other best friend and he deserved to know what was going on. What he hadn’t expected was the group of people he could see _behind_ Logan. His eyes shot over to them and he quickly took in the presence of Jean, Scott, and Ororo, before he brought accusing eyes back to Logan.

The feral spoke up quickly before Spencer could say any of the things already building. “They care about him too, kid.”

“He’s not going to want them here.” Spencer said quickly. His eyes darted up to them and back down to Logan. “You know that. He doesn’t even like admitting there’s anything wrong to _us_. Do you really think he’s going to want _them_ here to see this?”

“Yeah, well, maybe if more people knew what was going on, stuff like this might not happen.”

Spencer reeled back from that as if he’d been struck. What was Logan trying to say? Was he trying to imply that…that Spencer had let this happen? That he’d dropped the ball here?

Whatever was on his face had Logan’s hands squeezing his knees. “Knock it off. That’s not what I meant, Spence. This aint your fault. You can’t be there with him twenty-four-seven to watch over him. He needs people to be here to help him, Spence. More than just you and me. Even if he doesn’t like it, he needs the help. Now more than ever.”

Pushing his hands further through his hair, Spencer brought them back to grip at the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to do here, Logan.” He said the words so softly he doubted anyone but the feral would’ve been able to hear him. “I almost lost him.”

Logan didn’t say a word. He knew there wasn’t anything that he could say that would make this better. Instead he pushed himself up to his feet and reached out, catching hold of the back of Spencer's head and drawing him in. The young genius went against him easily and buried his face in against the soft flannel over Logan’s stomach. For just a moment he let himself lean there, let himself bury his face and curl up against the strength of a man he’d come to count as one of his closest friends. Here soon Spencer was going to have to be the strong one. And he’d do it, too. He could be strong for Remy. But for just this moment, just a little breath of time, he let someone else be strong and he took the offered comfort. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

* * *

It felt like his eyes were cemented shut. Remy tried to slowly open them but they fought him every step of the way. He felt exhausted; not the kind of tired that sleep can cure but the kind that sinks down into your bones and just doesn’t want to go away. He recognized the feeling. This time around as he woke up he wasn’t hazy. The morphine was no longer keeping his brain up in the clouds. As he opened his eyes, he knew to expect to see the hospital room around him. He remembered the phone call with Rogue and what had come after—and he remembered Spencer saving him. There was no cushion between Remy and what he’d done. Reality was harsh, and it hurt. Why had they saved him?

He tried to bring a hand up to rub at his face, maybe help clear his gritty eyes, but something around his wrist held him down. That was enough to snap some of the sleepiness out of him. His eyes opened wide and he stared down to where his hands were lashed down to the bed rails. Twin bolts of panic and annoyance flashed through him. Restraints? They'd put him in restraints? It was logical, he guessed, yet that didn’t stop the instinctive need to get away that boiled up inside of him. Were these really necessary? He'd failed once; did they really think he'd ever have enough privacy now to try again? As if anyone would leave him alone for a single second now. Spencer was going to be watching him like a hawk.

The familiar panic at being bound washed over Remy. He hadn’t known that there was a word for it until Spencer had told it to him once. Merinthophobia—the fear of being bound or tied up. All it took was the feel of those restraints around his wrists for him to start to feel that panicky sensation in his chest. The inability to move, to get up and walk around on his own, left him feeling suffocated. Sure, he knew he was safe, and he knew why they were doing it, but that didn’t take away from the feeling. Just when he thought he'd go crazy from it and start trying to pick or blast his way out, the door opened to his room opened and the last two people he’d expected came walking in.

Remy stared at them in shock. “Jean?” He croaked out. “Scotty?” What were they doing here? What the _hell_ were they doing here?

Sorrow was written all over Jean’s face as she hurried towards his bed with Scott trailing just a step behind her. “Oh, Remy!”

He wished he could draw back from her. He wished there was some way he could get up from this bed and pull away from her and Scott. Why were they here? How the hell did they get in here? He didn’t want them to see him like this! He didn’t want _anyone_ seeing him like this! _Now they’ll see just how pathetic you are. How weak._ Remy fought back the taunting voice in his head and tried to make his own voice work past a throat gone sore and dry. “How de hell did y’ get in here?”

“I told them Scott was your brother.” Jean said. She didn’t even bother looking embarrassed by it. “People assume it often enough; it didn’t take any real convincing.”

Oh God. He wasn't ready for this yet. He'd just woken up! He couldn’t even claim the fog of morphine to back out of the conversation. They were going to ask question, and how could he answer them? How could he tell them the truth? The usual masks he wore weren’t going to work. Not when he was lying here with stitches in his arm after having tried to kill himself. There was no way they’d fall for it now. What was he going to do? “Who…” He had to pause to clear his throat, to try and get moisture there, and it was absolutely mortifying when Jean hurried to get a cup of water and then proceeded to hold it out and help him drink like he was some child. Remy took just enough to wet his throat and then he turned his head away. “Who called y’?” he rasped out. Spencer wouldn’t have called them. There’s no way he would’ve told people. He knew Remy wouldn’t want anyone around him right now. He knew Remy better than anyone. So how the hell had these two gotten here?

“Spencer called Logan.” Scott explained as he stepped up to the side of Remy’s bed. His sunglasses made it hard to tell but Remy was pretty sure his eyes went over the big bandage over Remy’s arm before going up to his face. “Jean caught the thought in Logan’s head and she told me. We insisted on coming with him. Ororo’s out there too.”

Ororo? _Dieu_. Remy closed his eyes and tried not to scream. He clenched his teeth together and just lay there battling to breathe normal underneath the waves of guilt and self-loathing.

Jean reached out to him, but she pulled her hand back at Remy’s instinctive flinch.

The room went quiet for a moment and Remy knew they were both trying to think of what to say or what to do. They didn’t want to upset him more than he already was. That just made it worse, though. He’d never wanted this. He’d never wanted to be treated this way. _I wanted to be gone. I didn’t want to have to stick around and deal with this._

He wasn’t really surprised when Scott was the one to break the silence. Nor was he surprised by what he said. “What were you thinking, Rem?” He ignored his wife’s low warning murmur and focused straight on Remy, who opened his eyes to look at him again.

The tone to Scott’s voice wasn’t judgmental or anything like that. It was, however, confused as well as other emotions that Remy didn’t want to try and decipher. Scott probably meant to sound caring. He probably only wanted to understand. But they could never understand. How could they? They hadn’t even seen that there was a problem before. How could they understand it now? Anger bubbled up in Remy. Who did Scott think he was coming in here and demanding answers? What gave him that right? Temper had Remy snapping before he could think better of it. “I took m’ knife and slit m’ vein, Scotty, so I’d say I was t’inking I didn’t wanna be here anymore.”

Almost instantly he regretted it when he saw the stricken looks on his friends’ faces. He dropped his head back against the pillow. Someone had brought the bed up while he was sleeping, so that he was sitting instead of lying down, at least.

“Remy,” came Jean’s soft voice, “Honey, we just want to help you, that’s all. Scott and I, we care about you. We just want to help.”

Even with his intense dislike of telepaths, there’d always been a part of Remy that had liked Jean. She was both sweet and sassy, kind and dangerous, fun and tough. She was a mixture of so many different things and he found himself enjoying that about her. They had the kind of friendship where they could talk sometimes, or fight, or ignore one another completely, but he always knew that she cared. Or, at least, she cared about the person that Remy pretended to be, the face he put up for everyone to see. Would she really care if she knew who he really was? If she knew the person he’d been, the person he was, or the things that he’d done, would she still care about him? Or would she turn tail and run just like everyone else?

He was too open, too raw. He didn’t want to deal with these two. Why had they come in here? Why had _Spencer_ let them in here? Didn’t he know that Remy couldn’t handle this right now? Didn’t he care? Maybe…maybe this had finally been too much for him. Maybe he was finally done with Remy.

The pain of that was so immense it felt like a blow.

Remy let out a shaky breath and fought to get himself back under control. “Y’ can’t help.” Three words, three little words, yet he’d never meant anything more. They couldn’t help him. None of them could.

“We can, if you’ll let us. Whatever’s going on, whatever happened, it’s not worth this, Remy. Let us help you get through this. Let us be there for you.” Jean pleaded.

Not worth this? They didn’t know. They didn’t understand—and Remy was beyond caring. He couldn’t lie here and keep this up. With a shudder, he dropped down the masks and just rolled his head to the side, looking away from them. “It aint worth it.” He told them lowly. There had never been anything he meant more than he did those words in that moment. “I aint worth it. I’m tired, Jeannie. I’m just too damn tired of playin’ pretend. I aint got it in me anymore to do it.” He kept his face turned away as he spoke to them. It was so much easier that way. He didn't have to look at them; didn't have to face anything. Why oh why had he been saved? The hurt on his arm was minimal to the hurt on his soul. He felt as if he was going to break into pieces. “I’m just…I’m fuckin’ tired.”

“Was this because of your fight with Rogue?” Scott asked.

“Scott!” Jean snapped, her voice seriously annoyed.

Remy closed his eyes. So everyone knew, did they? “She told y’all about dat, hm?”

“She told us that you two fought and that you were, confused, about a few things.” Jean answered gently.

He couldn’t help but snort. Yeah, he was sure she’d been that diplomatic about it. “Confused. Is dat de word she used?” Rolling his head, Remy looked back over at the two and wanted nothing more than for them to leave him alone. To just go away and get the hell out of here. With that in mind, he deliberately made his words harsh and blunt. Maybe if he laid it all out for them than they would finally just leave him the hell alone. Maybe if he pushed everyone away hard enough they might go away and let him be alone, just like he deserved. “Remy aint confused, cher.” Unconsciously, he slipped into third person, purposely distancing himself from the conversation. “Remy knows who and what he is. It was Rogue dat didn’t realize it. She knows now, though, an Remy’s sure de rest of y’ do too. So don’t fuckin’ stand dere pretending like y’ don’t. Don’t act like she didn’t go tellin’ de whole house about Remy being a fuckin’ queer.”

He saw them both reel back a little from his words. Jean looked like she’d been slapped.

There was a part of Remy that hated himself even more for doing this to them. What on earth had possessed him to say that? What was he thinking? He hadn't managed to end his life, so he'd settle for destroying what life he had left? God, he needed help. He was sick. Absolutely sick.

But the bigger part of him had him pushing up a little, ignoring the pain in his arm as he tugged against his restraints. His eyes flashed hot and hard as he glared at them and tried his damndest to get them to _go away_. “She probably told y’ all about it, yeah? About how po’ confused Remy was in love with another man. An den y’ picked outta Logan’s head dat dis happened and y’ came out here to, what? Rub it in Remy’s face? Laugh at him? Tell him how wrong and fuckin’ dirty he is?”

“Remy, no…” Jean tried to say.

He just rolled right over top her. All his inner pain and self-loathing was spewing out of him and he couldn’t stop it. “Well y’ aint gotta say it, all right? Remy knows exactly what he is and y’—y’ aint got any fuckin’ clue. Y’ t’ink y’ do, _mais_ y’ don’t. Y’ don’t know how dirty Remy is. An y’ aint ever gonna know. Remy didn’t want y’ to know!” He twitched his arm and watched as their eyes went down and then back up to him, and he sneered at them. “Yeah, dat’s right. Remy knows who and what he is and he knows what he deserves. He knows what y’all really t’ink. Whore, freak, fag. Dey’re all words aint no one been afraid to say, not even back at dat fuckin’ house. It didn’t matter b’fore so why de hell does it matter to y’ now? Quit pretending like y’ give a fuck an just leave me alone. Just leave me de hell alone!” The last part was almost a shriek, there was so much pain and fury packed into it, and if Remy had been gripping anything at the time he knew he would’ve been charging it. He could feel the power building in his hands.

A voice from the doorway had them all going silent. “Enough!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merci, all of you, for your comments and kudos! :)

Spencer's rarely shown temper was boiling inside of him. It wasn’t often that it pushed to the surface but there was no stopping it right now. He’d been out pacing through the waiting room, waiting for his turn to go in and visit Remy—and quite annoyed that Jean and Scott had gone in while he was in the bathroom, despite his insistence to them earlier that Remy wouldn’t be ready to see them, or even _want_ to see them—when the yelling had reached him. There’d been no one nearby to stop him so he’d snuck down the hall and listened.

It only took a second for him to recognize the hysteria hidden underneath the temper in Remy’s voice. His words alone were bad enough; that hint of hysteria, that fear and panic, had Spencer moving, opening the door to the room before he’d even finished thinking about it. When he looked in he was stunned a bit by what he saw. Remy was sitting up in bed and yanking at his restraints while he shouted at Jean and Scott, who were standing near the foot of the bed almost like they’d stepped back from him, their expressions clearly shocked from everything they were hearing. The whole room was almost throbbing with the amount of emotion that was boiling over in here.

Jean was trying to hold a hand out Remy’s direction, her voice soft and sweet. Spencer could’ve told her that wouldn’t work. When Remy’s panic got up like this, soft wasn’t the way to get through to him. He was buried so deep in his own shock and hysteria, inside of his own pain, that quiet words would never reach through to him. There was only one way to break through it and Spencer knew he had to do it quickly before Remy yanked too hard on that arm and tore his stitches. That was why Spencer snapped out a furious sounding “Enough!”

It caught everyone’s attention, Remy’s included, and had all the eyes in the room turning towards him. Spencer ached inside to see the pain in Remy’s face and to feel it rolling off of him, but there was still a manic light in Remy's eyes that told him his friend wasn't all the way there right now. He was adrift in a sea of his own emotions and Spencer knew from experience just how to ground him and bring him back in. Keeping his voice firm, he moved confidently into the room, looking nothing at all like his usual shy, laid back self. “Remy Etienne LeBeau, what on earth do you think you’re doing? Lay back and quit thrashing around before you pull out your stitches or I’m going to call a doctor in here to sedate you. Is that what you want?”

Scott looked stunned by Spencer's words, but Jean was watching Remy and she saw the way that Spencer's firm voice seemed to get through like none of their words had. She put her hand on Scott’s arm and drew him back a few steps. Catching Spencer's eye, she discreetly nodded towards the door. When he nodded back, she led Scott away.

Spencer was grateful that Jean was smart enough to get them out of here. This wasn’t something they needed to be here for. Taking a deep breath, he made his way up to the bed. His hands were surprisingly steady as he straightened the blankets around Remy and then checked to make sure no blood was coming through the bandage. Remy lay there silently the whole time and allowed him to do it. He said nothing as Scott and Jean left, or as Spencer looked him over.

When the young doctor was satisfied, he put his hands on his hips and faced Remy head on. “I know those two can be frustrating, but screaming at them is not the best answer, Remy. What if you’d torn your stitches open?” Keeping up the calm façade, he reached out to the little table by Remy’s bed and picked up the cup that Jean had used earlier to give Remy a drink. He offered it to him and, after a moment, Remy accepted. He let Spencer give him a small sip before he pulled back and turned his head away.

Spencer knew, of course, what Remy was trying to do. He’d done the same thing last time. He tried to push people away. It had worked plenty of times before. If he got harsh enough, or nasty enough, he could make people go away. Spencer was the first person in his life who he couldn’t manage to chase away. The last time, he’d said some horrible things to him, nasty things that had still hurt even though Spencer knew he didn’t really mean them. He hadn’t let it chase him away then and he wasn’t going to now.

However, he could tell it was coming, and he tried to brace himself for it.

“Whatever.” The low word from Remy was heavy with a feigned indifference. “Dey shouldn’t ask about t’ings dey don’t want de answers to. If dey didn’t want to know dat Remy was a fag, dey shouldn’t have put deir noses in his broken relationship.”

The use of the word ‘fag’ had Spencer wanting to flinch. Just barely did he manage to restrain it. He didn’t let himself falter at all as he set the cup back down. He’d known coming in here what this was about. Logan had already told him about the things Rogue had told the house. Plus, hearing what he had from Remy as he’d listened to the yelling had really brought it all home. Spencer had suspected for quite a while that Remy was gay, though he’d doubted that Remy would admit to it. Not with the way he’d been raised and things that had happened to him in life. Hearing it fall from Remy’s lips now was surprising. It was also sad. He’d hoped one day Remy could come to terms with it on his own, peacefully, without all this pain.

He took too long to answer and Remy’s lips curled up into a sneer. He rolled his head back over and shot Spencer a mocking look. “What, didn’t y’ hear dat part? Remy’s shocked. Everyone else knows apparently. Why don’t y’? Didn’t no one tell y’ know Rogue found out dat Remy was in love with another man? Dat’s why she left, y’know. Cause she knows Remy’s a fuckin’ freak.” He huffed out a laugh that was so full of pain it made Spencer wince. Then, the next words he said took Spencer's already broken heart and almost shattered it. “Ironic, aint it? Y’r de one who saved me, an y’r de whole reason I was dere to begin with.”

Silence filled the hospital room. Spencer knew that he probably looked like he’d been slapped. A part of him registered that Remy looked that way as well. Obviously, he hadn’t meant to say those words, but they echoed between them now, out there in a way that he would never be able to take back.

Pain washed over Remy’s face and his restrain rattled a little as he obviously tried to lift a hand. “Spencer.” This time, there was no mocking edge to his voice, no anger. Just a wealth of regret and heartache.

Before Remy could say anything more, Spencer held a hand up. It cut off whatever the Cajun had been about to say and plunged the room into silence once more. For a moment longer the two of them were quiet as they stared at one another. Spencer fought to lock down the feelings that were burning in him from Remy’s words. Only when he was sure his voice would be steady did he finally lower his hand and speak.

“I can forgive you for that.” He said slowly, his voice steady and his eyes right on Remy. “I can do it because I understand—far more than you give me credit for. I didn’t cut myself open, but I did do other things to hide from what I feel for you. But I learned to come to terms with it. I learned to come to terms with myself. You will too, eventually, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now. You’ll come to realize that being gay isn’t a bad thing and it doesn’t change who you are. And I’ll be there to help you, no matter how hard you try to push me away. But,” To Remy’s surprise, Spencer's expression hardened ever so slightly. “I will warn you right now, Remy LeBeau, I won’t stand and let you cut me down. You yell at me and I guarantee you I’m going to yell right back. I won’t just sit back and take it like Scott and Jean were. If you want to fight, be prepared because I’m going to fight right back with you. You’re going to have enough people treating you like glass. I won’t add to it. Now, my five minutes are probably up, and I need a moment anyways to calm down. I’ll send Ororo in to visit you if you’re ready.”

That said, he turned and left the room before anything else could be said or done, leaving Remy to his thoughts.

* * *

Spencer managed to keep his cool as he made it down the hallway and even through walking into the waiting room. He kept things under control when he saw the group standing there. Jean, Scott, Ororo, Logan, even Derek was still there. The blankness of his face was just as telling as any anger or heartache, though. Those that knew him well took one look and immediately understood that something had happened in there. Derek took a small step forward, just enough that he could brush the tips of his fingers over Spencer's arm. “Reid?”

Shaking his head, Spencer tried to clear his brain. That one sentence kept playing back through his mind. “ _Ironic, aint it? Y’r de one who saved me, an y’r de whole reason I was dere to begin with.”_

He had been the reason for that? It was because of what Remy felt for him that he'd tried to take his life? That left Spencer feeling sick inside. Only by sheer force of will did he manage to not get sick right then and there. He was quite proud of how steady his voice was when he spoke up again. “Ororo, I think he’s up for a visit with you if you’d like to go back. I’m sure he needs someone with him right now.”

“Of course.”

The weather goddess stopped beside him to stretch up and press a light kiss against his cheek. When she was gone, Spencer turned as if to head towards the bathrooms, anywhere that wasn’t _here_. But Derek was still right at his arm and Spencer felt his friend’s fingers curl around his elbow and pull, drawing him away from everyone. Behind Spencer's back Derek exchanged a quick look with Logan, who gestured for Jean and Scott to stay back. Then the feral followed after them. Something had happened, they could both see that. Right now there wasn’t much that they could do to help Remy. Not while he was here. But they could help Spencer.

For his part, Spencer just felt sort of numb as Derek led him over to the nurses’ station. After asking them a question, which Spencer didn’t even bother to try and hear, he then pulled Spencer down the hall and into an empty room. There was a part of him that knew that he was probably scaring his friends with how he was acting. The rest of him, however, couldn’t seem to do anything more than keep hearing those words, over and over on a painful loop in his brain that just wouldn’t stop. Lost in it, Spencer let himself get tugged inside and pushed down into a chair. He was grateful that the hands on him moved away. He didn’t want to be touched right then. He didn’t think he could handle it. Not and keep the little amount of composure he was clinging to.

The room stayed quiet for a moment as the other two men settled in. Derek took the chair near Spencer, turning his enough so that he was angled towards his friend, while Logan took up post over by the door, leaning back against it almost like a guard. Resting his arms on his thighs, Derek leaned forward so that he could catch Spencer's gaze. “What happened, Reid?”

There was no hesitation from Spencer. The words bubbled up like they’d just been waiting for permission to get free. The answer he gave them was the last one either man had expected. “Rogue broke up with him because he’s apparently in love with me. He told me it’s my fault. _Ironic, aint it? Y’r de one who saved me, an y’r de whole reason I was dere to begin with._ Those were his exact words.” A shudder ran down Spencer's body and he lifted a hand to wipe over his mouth. All over again he felt like he was going to be sick.

Head bowed the way he had it, he missed the fury on Derek’s face, or the sharp way that Logan was looking at him. By the time Spencer lifted his head again they both had their expressions smoothed out.

“It hurt.” Spencer admitted. Now that the words had started, they kept coming. Here with these two where he knew he was safe, it was easy to talk. “I won’t lie. I really hurt. I mean, the idea of loving me was enough for him to want to die, Morgan. I know that it’s not personal or anything like that. It’s years of internalized homophobia that pushed him to this. But at the same time, there’s this part of me that just…that just can’t help but think ‘what does that say about me?’” Spencer voice broke on the last few words and he had to stop to get his composure once more. His hands came together in front of him and he twisted them in the self-soothing gesture he’d used for years. “Like I said, I know logically that it really isn’t meant as a personal affront against me. Just like I know that Remy never would’ve said that if he wasn’t so dead set on trying to push everyone away. But, I just, I don’t know what to do here. What am I supposed to do?”

“There’s not a lot you can do right now.” Derek told him gently.

“He’s right.” Logan said. “Right now, all you can do is be there for him. That’s all any of us can do.”

Of course. As if Spencer was going to be anywhere else. He wasn’t going to leave Remy to deal with this on his own. He was confident he could get Aaron to grant him some time off. Remy wasn’t going to be able to get rid of Spencer for a while. Keeping his best friend alive was far more important than anything else in his life. Staying with Remy—that was never in question here. Spencer blew out a breath and shifted his gaze away from them, staring at a point on the wall. “I told him I loved him to. That I had for a while.”

Derek sucked in a sharp breath. He was the only one that Spencer had actively told this. He knew that Logan had figured it out; the man was too smart for his own good. But Spencer had only ever told Derek before. He’d been too convinced that nothing would ever come of it for him to want to put himself out there around anyone else. Derek’s voice gentled even more. “Reid.”

“You know, I used to imagine what it might be like when I told him.” A low, slightly broken laugh slipped from Spencer. He dropped his head down to stare at his hands and he had to blink rapidly just to keep the tears from falling. “I never imagined a scenario where he was lying in a hospital bed after trying to kill himself and he tells me what he feels for me made him do it.”

There was nothing really that anyone could say to that.

* * *

Remy spent the rest of his afternoon hating himself. In his life he’d hurt plenty of people—too many, really. This wasn’t the first time that he’d hurt someone, or even the first time that he’d hurt _Spencer_. But it left a heavy, sick feeling in his stomach nonetheless. That feeling only got worse as time passed and Spencer didn’t come back in to see him. He’d really done it this time. He’d hurt him so bad he’d actually pushed him away. It was what he wanted, of course. It was what he’d been aiming for. But, _Dieu_ , it hurt. Spencer had always been his one constant. He’d always been the person there, the one that Remy couldn’t chase away, the one who saw beneath all the masks to the terrified boy inside and yet still stuck around, still cared.

_Of course he ran_ , his mind snarled at him. _What did you expect? You basically told him this was his fault. He knows now how fucking dirty you are. Do you really think he wants to stick around?_

Remy tried not to be sick.

The afternoon hadn’t gotten any better after that. He’d refused to see both Ororo and Logan. He didn’t want to end up hurting anyone else any more than he already had. The only person he couldn’t stop from seeing him was the psychiatrist who had come in to talk to him. Usually, talking to a shrink was the one thing that Remy really didn’t want to do. He also knew it was the one thing that Spencer would’ve asked of him. If, you know, he’d _been there_. Part of Remy’s brain hissed at him _It’s the least you can do for him_. And really, was it that hard? Remy had already screwed up everything else. He’d already screwed over his life. Why not make it complete? With that fatalistic attitude, it was surprisingly easy for Remy to just open up and rant at the shrink who sat calmly beside his bed and listened to every snapped, snarled, even shouted word. For almost an hour Remy had ranted about everything that was going on inside of his brain.

He'd been refreshingly, brutally honest. It had almost been as if someone else was speaking for him. There was something sort of freeing, he discovered, about feeling like you’ve sunk as low as you possibly can. You stop giving a damn about what anyone thinks because, really, what can they think that’s worse than what you do?

One good thing that came out of it was his restraints were removed after that session. Honestly, Remy was stunned by it. But the shrink had calmly said that, while wildly depressed, Remy currently wasn’t a risk to himself. Remy wasn’t so sure, but he wasn’t going to argue that. He was out of the restraints at least. No one told him about the conversation Spencer had with his psychiatrist about Remy’s past mental history, or about what was going to be done in the future. No one told Remy that, in the eyes of the hospital he was essentially being signed into Spencer's care.

Free of his restraints now, it allowed Remy to curl himself up in his bed, curling in on himself as his mind continued to berate him. He couldn’t believe he’d hurt people he cared about like this. Not just the pain from his attempted suicide; he’d known that would hurt them—he just hadn’t planned on being here after to see it all. It was also the words he’d said, the things he’d shouted at them all, that were ripping into him now.

He’d seen the shock on Jean and Scott when he’d shouted at them. He could perfectly recall the stunned look as well as the pain that had been on Spencer's when he’d shouted at him, too. What kind of man was he that he did these hurtful things? None of this was anyone’s fault but his own. Pushing the blame off onto them was pathetic and cowardly. _How appropriate._

With a sigh, Remy sat up in bed, crossing his legs. What the hell was he going to do? Rogue had left him, and he knew now that pretty much the whole household knew about it. He couldn’t go back there. Not to that. And despite Spencer's earlier comments, he had no doubt that he'd alienated his friend. He was alone.

What had he gotten himself in to? At the time, it had seemed so easy. The absolute best solution. In one move, the pain would be gone. He wouldn’t have to deal anymore with the shame and self-loathing. But now, he was stuck here. He was going to be forced to deal with all of it. Still, he could have covered some of it up. Used some kind of excuse, gave his family only half the story. But in a moment of temper, his emotions not quite right, he'd blurted out his biggest secret, and he’d screwed up what remained of his life. How long would it be before everyone knew? Word would spread like wildfire. There were plenty of people out there he knew that would get a kick out of seeing Gambit brought low. Hearing that his girl had left him because he was some fairy who loved his best friend, and that he’d then tried to kill himself, would make their days.

Nerves tight, Remy stood and started to pace the room. He remembered seeing a bag brought in earlier—the nurse had told him it was from his friend Logan—and he quickly moved to the bathroom area to look through it. The idea of putting on regular clothes sounded heavenly. Remy hated the hospital gown they had him in. He didn’t care if it was against regulations; he wanted out of this damn gown.

Sure enough, there were real clothes in the bag. _Dieu_ bless Logan for that.

It helped a little, being in normal clothes again. But the white bandage stood out on his arm, and the ache of his stitches was a constant reminder.

He resumed pacing, trying to order his thoughts. All he wanted was his life back. But, it had been so long since he had been happy. Really, truly happy. He'd tried so hard with Rogue. He’d worked hard to build a life with her. A life like the one people thought he should have. He’d played up that image and worked hard to build and maintain it. But…maybe that was the problem. When you have to try that hard with someone to be happy, shouldn't that tell you that they're not the one for you? But what his heart wanted, his head couldn't wrap around. It was, wrong. Wasn't it?

He dropped back onto the bed, frustrated all over again. How do you match your brain and your heart together when they both say different things? He couldn't erase from his mind what Spencer had said to him, about loving him for a long time. Or hearing his voice when he'd been on that balcony, the tears and honest fear in it. There was love there. He couldn’t deny that. But he also couldn't forget the look Spencer had when he'd turned around after Remy had thrown those words at him. For a second, there had been a world of pain that mirrored his in those dark eyes.

_Dieu_ , he just needed to get out of here. Get away from the hospital, away from everyone. At least at a hotel or something he could try to hide.

A rueful chuckle escaped at that thought. Yeah, right. Like they'd let him out of their sight now.

As if to attest to that, someone tapped at his door before coming in. When he saw who it was, he couldn’t even be annoyed at having his ‘no visitors’ rule disturbed. How could he ever be annoyed when faced with the sight of his sister? Remy felt his lips curl up just the slightest bit in a smile that was mostly honest. “Stormy.”

Ororo gave him that warm smile of hers that always left him feeling completely and totally loved. “Brother.” Without hesitation, she came right over to his bed and sat down with him. Reaching out, she caught hold of his hands in hers. “I know you requested to see no one, but I couldn’t wait. I needed to at least come in and see you with my own eyes. I needed to see that you were okay.”

His heart throbbed a little in his chest at the pain he could hear in her voice. Here, too, he was messing things up, hurting people that he cared about. “ _Je suis désolé, mon sœur._ ”

Her thumb stroked soothingly over the back of his hand. “Hush. You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“ _Oui_ , I do. I didn’t want to hurt y’, petit. I really didn’t.”

“Hurting is a part of loving someone. You accept the bad alongside the good. Trust me, Remy. The good I gain from our relationship far outweighs any bad.” She tilted her head to better look at his face and offered him a gentle smile. “I was hurt by this, but mostly I was scared.” The words came so easily to her. She never seemed to have a problem talking to him about things.

He let out a shaky breath and tried to keep himself under control. He didn’t want to end up hurting her the way he had everyone else today. “ _Je sais._ I know I scared y’, an I’m sorry fo’ it. I don’t…I don’t really have an excuse. Remy was just actin’ stupid, petit.”

“I wish you’d told me that you were hurting, brother.” Pausing, his beautiful sister, this woman he’d taken into his heart and who had taken him into hers, looked like she was close to tears. “I wish I’d noticed the pain you were in. I cannot help but feel I should’ve seen _something_.”

Immediately Remy sat up straight. “ _Non,_ Stormy. _Non_.” He tightened his good hand over hers and tried to make his voice stronger, to make sure that she heard and understood what he said next. “Petit, I’m here because of me, no one else. Not y’, not Rogue, not no one. Dis is all on Remy. Y’ can’t blame y’rself cause y’ didn’t see anyt’ing. I didn’t want y’ to see anyt’ing. I didn’t want y’ to see dis part of me.” _How dirty I am. How wrong. I didn’t want you to stop loving me._ “Dis t’ing—dis t’ing inside of Remy, it’s been dere fo’ a while now. I just, I knew how wrong it was. I was raised better’n to t’ink dat way. So, I fought it, fo’ a long, long time. Dis was just…I got tired of fighting.”

“There is nothing wrong with you.” Ororo insisted firmly, with all the authority in her voice of one who had once commanded an entire people to do her bidding.

_Dieu, grant me patience_ , he thought to himself. He’d be damned if he blew up at Ororo too. But his temper, so volatile today, was simmering just below the surface and he could feel it bubbling up at what she had probably meant to be kind words. He held it in as best as he could and tried to keep his voice normal. “Dere is, cher, an I know dat. I’ve known it fo’ a long time. Just, now, dere aint no more hiding it. Everyone else knows it as well. I’m…” The word stuck in his throat for a moment, this one word that he’d spent so long denying, that he’d been taught was something that he should hate about himself. It stuck in his throat and he had to fight to push it out. “…I’m gay, Ororo. I may not like it, _mais_ it’s dere. Dat don’t mean I’m gonna act on it. I can’t deny it anymore, though. Not when I know Rogue’s done told everyone. Dere’s a part of me I aint ever gonna be able to get rid of dat’s in love with Spencer in a way I shouldn’t be, an it’s because of no one but me. I fucked m’self up. I fucked m’own life up. I destroyed everyt’ing with dis. So don’t sit dere an tell me dere aint not’ing wrong with me when we both know better’n dat.”

A note of hysteria was creeping into his words. He cut off quickly, trying to calm it back down. He almost lost control of it when he saw Ororo’s face go soft and careful. “Okay, Remy.” She said gently. “Take a breath. Calm yourself, please. I’m sorry for pushing you. You’ve had a long day; we do not need to do this right now.”

As he looked at her, Remy realized that this was what Spencer had meant earlier when he mentioned people being careful around him. He'd called it just right. They were going to treat him with kid gloves now, not wanting to trigger anything in him. Oh _Dieu_ , how frustrating.

Remy just barely leashed his temper. Somehow, he found the strength to sit there and make small talk for a little longer, until finally Ororo had to leave. She hugged him tight before she was ushered out of the room by the nurse.

Alone with his thoughts once more, all Remy could think was ‘What am I going to do now?’


	4. Chapter 4

Seventy two hours was the required hold time for someone after an attempted suicide. Seventy two hours in which they kept Remy inside of that hospital room. After the emotional upheaval of the first day, his visitation was restricted, which really only served to make him feel more lost and isolated. He didn't even get the buffer of anyone around him. Just an empty room only occasionally occupied by nursing staff or the doctors. Remy responded to it by curling himself up in the bed and sleeping. Just, sleeping. Even the stupid shrink coming in didn't stir him. He didn't want to talk to the man anymore. Why bother? He was so sure they were going to keep him here anyways. Why would they let him free when this was done? He knew how it worked. Hell, he was lucky they hadn't locked him in the psych ward already.

There was only one bright spot in those seventy two hours. Only one thing that gave him a tiny bit of hope. At one point as he was lying there thinking about everything and nothing, he heard what sounded like shouting. The shouting sounded almost—familiar. It was enough to actually stir him out of bed. Though he didn't open his door, he did lean against the wall right by it and listen. What he heard eased just a tiny bit of the ache inside of him.

"You think isolating him is the answer?" Spencer was shouting at someone. Spencer, shouting! They had to have pissed him off a lot to get him like that. The shy young genius didn't yell. He snapped, yes, and he could occasionally growl at Remy with the best of them, but shouting? It took a whole hell of a lot to get him to that point .Yet he was clearly yelling now. "You need to let me back there. You have no idea what you're dealing with! Shut him away like that and you might as well hand him my gun. It'd be quicker!"

Spencer was out there, fighting, for _him_. He was fighting to come and see Remy.

A little bit of the fear in Remy faded with that. Just a little, though. It was enough to give him hope that maybe he hadn't really chased Spencer away. That maybe he really was going to stick around just like he said.

By the time the psychiatric hold was let up on Remy, he had talked himself up and down a thousand times, bouncing between being sure that Spencer was going to be there, to being sure he would be long gone. So when he came out of his room and found his best friend standing in the waiting room with Logan, _smiling_ at him, the relief was so great he almost collapsed underneath it.

Logan clasped his shoulder when he got close, giving a squeeze that conveyed all the words the two never had to say between each other. Remy soaked up the positive touch he knew he didn't deserve. But it was nothing compared to the feelings in him when Spencer stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him. Guilt, self-hatred and joy all combined together inside of Remy for an almost nauseating mix. Yet, he couldn't keep himself from lifting his good arm carefully and using it to tug Spencer in even closer. He always loved hugs from Spencer. The genius wasn't that physical with most people and Remy always counted it as a win when he was with him. Plus, Spencer gave amazing hugs. He wasn't one of those people that tried to wrap themselves around you and smother you with their hugs. He never wrapped his arms around your neck and strangled you with them. He just sort of, stepped up and, burrowed in. His arms would slip around Remy's waist and he'd burrow in against him, his face fitting perfectly in the curve of Remy's neck. It was like he was made to fit there. Remy wanted to shove him away and to never let him go.

"I'm sorry, they wouldn't let me see you." Spencer murmured against him. He pulled back and looked up at Remy's face, the fact that he was trying to make eye contact showing just how serious he was. "I had to pull a few strings to get you released into my care as it was. They set the condition that I had to have an appointment already made for you to see someone else before they would agree to release you to me."

That wasn't that surprising. Remy had known he wasn't going to get out of this without regular visits to a shrink. The fact that Spencer managed to keep them from putting him on a locked ward was amazing enough.

As if Spencer knew what he was thinking, his expression softened. "I wouldn't let them do that to you again, Rem. I know what those places are like for you." Something on his face changed a little as they finally broke their hug, something that had Remy bracing for bad news. Sure enough, "I arranged for some time off, though. I'll be coming back to the mansion with you."

Back to the mansion? The feeling of panic hit Remy like a fist to the gut. Judging by way that Spencer's eyes widened and he sucked in a breath, Remy knew Spencer must've been able to pick up on that feeling, which meant that Remy's shields weren't working the way they were supposed to.

Logan saved the situation from getting any worse by quickly grabbing hold of Remy's shoulder once more and grounding him with just that touch. Then he said the only thing that could've calmed Remy in that moment. "Rogue aint there, Gumbo. She's staying out with Emma on the other coast right now. An no one else in the house knows anything about this. They know the two of ya broke up, but they don't know about none of this."

No one else knew? But…what? Remy felt so lost. That wasn't at all what he'd been expecting.

Everything felt so strange and off for him. Nothing was happening the way he expected it to. He couldn't seem to get his feet underneath himself again. Everything was just, wrong. Strange and wrong and nothing at all like what he was expecting. He didn't know how to handle all this; how to handle their _caring_. He wasn't even supposed to be here anymore! Remy was supposed to be dead and gone so he wouldn't have to feel like this anymore. So he wouldn't have to _live_ like this. All of these emotions, all these feelings that were just snaking around inside of him, twisting him up, and he couldn't seem to fight against them the way he usually could. He couldn't push them back or hide behind his usual mask. All the parts of him that he'd worked so hard to keep hidden now felt like they were lying right out there, open and exposed. Could he really go back to the mansion like this? Even if the others didn't know, could he really go there while he felt like this?

Long fingers suddenly threaded through his. Remy looked down with surprise at where Spencer's hand was lightly holding his and then he looked up to his face to find Spencer watching him. "I'll be right there with you, Rem." Spencer murmured lowly, his voice pitched for Remy and Remy alone. "I didn't leave you alone last time and I'm not going to this time, either. I'll be right here."

Remy couldn't form words past the lump in his throat. Silent, all he could do was squeeze Spencer's hand and hope he understood just how much it meant to Remy, especially after all that he'd done to push him away before and the horrible words he'd said.

The way that Spencer smiled at him had Remy thinking that maybe, yeah, he did understand.

* * *

They drove from DC to New York in Spencer's little Honda Civic. It had to be one of the single most awkward rides that Remy had ever been a part of. He wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone, thank you very much, so he just curled up in the backseat and tried to ignore the two men in the front. For the most part, it worked, except for every way that it _didn't_. For some reason he just couldn't shut off his damn awareness of Spencer. It wasn't a bad thing, really. It wasn't like he was uncomfortable being around him. Or, well, not too much, and most of that stemmed from his own personal guilt. It was just…

It was so damn _easy_ to be here with Spencer. Even if they weren't saying a word. Remy would look up sometimes and he'd catch Spencer's eye in the rearview mirror and the air between them felt like his charge was tingling in it. So he'd turn away, make himself stare out the window, but even that didn't change that easy feeling inside of him, the one that always came in Spencer's presence. He'd never had this feeling with Rogue or even with anyone else. For the longest time, Remy hadn't thought anything of it. It was just how it was. Being with Spencer was easy. With him, Remy never had to pretend. He never had to fake it. It was relaxed and himself in ways he never was anywhere else. He hadn't realized that this wasn't normal. That this was how he should be with a partner. Not until Rogue had pointed it out to him and demanded to know why he wasn't this way with her.

Now—now the easy feeling he always had with Spencer was tainted by the knowledge that this apparently wasn't normal. That it was part of this _thing_ inside of him, this part of him that had been made wrong.

He found himself picking at the bandage on his arm in a nervous gesture that he quickly tried to still. The bandage was well hidden underneath his sleeves but somehow he'd slipped his fingers under there and had started picking at it without realizing it. His fingers kept being drawn there over and over. As if he had to touch it to remind himself that it really was real. That he had tried this and had failed. Again. Just as he failed at everything else.

Trying to distract himself, Remy let his gaze drift around the car, wishing absently that he had a pair of sunglasses at least to hide behind. His eyes went across Logan, who was currently telling Spencer something in a low rumble that Remy didn't even try and listen to, and the Cajun had to fight not to flinch. His hand twitched like it would go back to his bandage again only to end up dropping down to tap against his leg in a small gesture of agitation that he usually didn't let show. He was nervous around Logan and unable to really explain why. There was nothing to be nervous about with him; he'd showed that back at the hospital. Logan wasn't judging or criticizing him for this. They just…weren't talking.

A part of him thought that maybe he would've preferred Logan to lecture or judge him, or even yell at him. That was something he knew how to deal with. That, he could handle. He knew how to deal with people telling him he was stupid or worthless and an idiot. But, for all his growling and blustering, that just wasn't Logan's way. Logan would tell you when you were being stupid, sure, but he wasn't the type to kick a person when they were down. He would pamper a little without ever admitting that that's what he was doing, and spoil them slightly in ways he could play off or ways that no one else could see, and he'd be there when needed. But he wouldn't yell at a person he felt was mentally down.

Still, Remy kind of wished he would. He wished at least one person would. He'd been so fucking stupid here. Couldn't one person have the balls to say it to him?

He closed his eyes and bowed his head down. Without realizing it, his hand was rubbing over the bandage again. Even as there was a part of him that was so infuriated at him for failing, there was another part of him that kept telling him that trying to commit suicide was the stupidest thing he had ever done. He had been raised better than to try something like that. Life's problems were faced down and dealt with, not run away from. But, _Dieu_ , he was so tired of facing them! He'd been fighting and fighting for so long, there wasn't much left in him to fight with. He was so tired.

It took what felt like forever for them to get to Xavier's home. At the same time it was nowhere near long enough. When Spencer parked the car in front of the house, it took so much effort for Remy to make himself actually climb out. Even then, he just stood there for a moment, trying so damn hard to keep his masks in place as he stared up at the house in front of him that had, for a short while, been a sanctuary for him. It didn't feel like that anymore. Any safety he'd felt here was gone.

Remy didn't want to face the people of the house. He didn't want to go in there and have to face them all. His palms started to sweat and he felt the nerves in his stomach jumping, making him nauseous. He couldn't do this. He couldn't. He wasn't ready for it yet! Without realizing, he started backing up, preparing to escape. A firm hand on his arm stopped him. Startled, he looked up to find Logan right there watching him with far too much understanding in those blue eyes of his. However, there was firmness mixed in with that understanding and Remy knew there would be no escape.

The feral man moved in a little closer to him. "Chin up." He said in a voice so low, Remy doubted that even Spencer—who was just on Remy's other side—could hear it. "You've faced worse than this, Gumbo. This aint nothing. All you gotta do is walk in there and go upstairs—that's it. You aint gotta stop and talk to anyone you don't wanna."

He was trying to be reassuring in that gruff way of his and any other time Remy might've appreciated it. Right then, it just wasn't helping. The nausea was still there, rolling around his belly. Before it could rise up any more and choke him, he was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of a snort off to his other side. Surprise had him turning to look. He found Spencer lounging against the trunk of the car, their bags slung over one shoulder, and watching him with a little half smile on his face.

Logan looked surprised as well. His eyebrows furrowed as he gave Spencer a strange look. "What's so funny, bub?"

The 'bub' instead of 'kid' was a slight warning, Remy knew, that was telling Spencer to answer carefully. But Spencer's smile just grew into one that Remy recognized as fond. "I think the last time I saw you this nervous to see people, you'd accidentally knocked over Garcia's vase. I'd never seen you so panicked before."

A startled laugh burst from Remy. He remembered the time Spencer was talking about and the memory of it brought a real, honest smile to his lips. Some of his tension drained away. While Logan's gruff coddling was comforting, in its own way, Spencer's light teasing was comfortable and familiar. The only person in the world that Spencer felt comfortable enough with to use his dry and occasionally strange sense of humor with was Remy. Remy had been the only person to ever get it without being offended or too confused. Hearing it now gave Remy a little solid ground to stand on in a world that had felt like quicksand these past few days. It told him that Spencer had been telling the truth when he'd promised Remy that he wouldn't treat him with kid gloves.

"Bite me." Remy teased back, grinning. His grin was just a shade false, not quite up to par, but neither man called him on it. "Dat _femme_ is fuckin' terrifyin' when she gets pissed. Y' go an tell her y' broke somet'ing an try not to be scared of her!"

"She wouldn't hurt me." An impish grin lit up Spencer's face. "She says I look too sad to stay mad at."

The trio were still laughing as they made their way up to the house.

* * *

Spencer was grateful when they encountered no one once they stepped inside Xavier's home. Something told him he had Scott or Jean to thank for that, or even Ororo. Later on he'd have to seek them out and thank them. The last thing Remy really needed was to be confronted by some sort of welcome home group. It'd be easier for him if he could greet them one on one, in stages, then be forced to face them all at once.

During the seventy-two hours that Remy had been shut up alone in that hospital room, Spencer hadn't simply been waiting out in the waiting room. He'd taken care of quite a lot of business. First things first had been arranging his time off. Thankfully, he'd had Derek to help with that. The man had told Spencer to just leave it to him and he'd handle it all. Sure enough, he'd called Spencer only hours later and told him that Aaron said to take all the time he needed. Spencer was beyond grateful to have a friend like Derek on his side.

The next thing, of course, had been dealing with the hospital. Arranging for Remy's care wasn't anywhere near as easy as he played it off to Remy, or to anyone else really. It'd taken a lot of fast talking, some pushing, and even a small hint of manipulation in the form of using his empathy to _calm_ the people around him. It had definitely helped his case when he'd not only explained to them that Remy was a being who required freedom and safe human contact to improve, but he'd also had an outside doctor verify that—the very same doctor that Remy was now going to be seeing. For the moment he was going to be under outpatient treatment with an older woman by the name of Alisha who ran a private practice here in New York. His first appointing was going to be tomorrow, even. Whether Remy liked it or not.

As he sat on Remy's bed and watched the Cajun unpack his bag, he knew Remy was very firmly going to be in the _not_ column. He hated therapy.

Remy had been so quiet about things and Spencer had promised himself not to push it. That's what Alisha was going to be for. She could be the one to push and prod and force Remy along the road to recovery. Spencer would be there to help support him and do whatever he could to keep him going, and to hold him together when he felt like he couldn't. It was the same thing Spencer had done last time. He'd done it then and he could do it now. No matter how much his insides hurt.

Because Remy had been quiet for so long, it was even more of a surprise when he settled down on the bed and looked at him with a serious look that Spencer knew meant he was about to say something important. "I wanna talk about t'ings, Penny. Talk about, y'know, us. About de t'ings we said b'fore."

Shock coursed through Spencer. He knew he was staring at Remy, but he couldn't help himself. He hadn't figured that Remy would ever want to talk about it, let alone in that calm of a voice. For a moment the genius gave thanks that Logan had left them alone once they'd reached Remy's room. It gave them the privacy they'd need for a conversation like this. Hesitantly, he asked "What do you want to know?"

The blush that colored Remy's cheeks was so very out of character and yet—cute. It made Spencer smile softly, releasing some of his shock. He could never resist smiling when Remy blushed. He'd always found it a sweet trait about the grown man. One of those sweet, quirky little things that no one else but him ever got to see. No one else would've even believed that the Cajun knew how to blush.

"I was, y'know, I was wondering after our talk…I had plenty of time to t'ink in dere and I just…have y', have y' really had dem kind of feelings fo' me, cher?" Remy asked shyly.

This was dangerous territory to get into after what had happened. Before he answered, Spencer looked long and hard at Remy's face. There were nerves there, that was obvious. A slight tension, too. But, he wasn't sure, he thought he saw curiosity in his eyes. Something else was there, something he couldn't figure out. Spencer chewed his lip as he thought, trying to figure out how to phrase his answer very carefully. Despite his promise to treat Remy just like normal, this was a delicate topic. "I have." He finally settled on saying, his voice soft yet solid, leaving no room for doubt. "I have for quite a while now. I just came to terms with the fact that you would never return them."

" _Mais_ , don't it…don't it scare y'?" The words sounded like they were yanked from inside of Remy. From deep down inside in that place where the terrified boy in him lived. The part of him that had been beaten and broken and told so many times that he was wrong, always wrong. "Dis, it aint normal, Spencer. It's against every'ting I've been told to believe."

There was something in his voice that told Spencer to tread lightly. There was more than just a simple discussion going on. It sounded to him like Remy was trying to find the answers to his own problems. He was lost, unsure of what to do or how to act. On one hand, he had been raised to think that what he was feeling was the worst kind of sin. On the other, he was unable to deny what he felt any longer. He'd tried to make it go away and it hadn't worked. Now he was trying to find a way to live with it. How Spencer answered these questions could make a huge difference.

"Of course it scared me." Spencer said. It was true, too. "You know I wasn't raised as religious as you, but I still had the concept that it was wrong, just like most people. No one sits down and decides, hey, I think I'll be gay." That earned him a small smile from Remy. "I did the same thing you did, Rem. I tried to run from it. I tried to hide." He knew what it was like to hate a part of yourself. The way that he'd grown up had taught him to hate who he was in so many different ways. It took him years and a lot of work to come to terms with being pansexual. Years of being picked on, of being called fag and freak and fairy. Years of people chasing him down and playing 'smear the queer'. "I took a lot of beatings for who I am. Not just from other people but from myself as well. I did things, stupid things. In the end I finally realized that I had to work through it or I was going to lose myself. I had to come to terms with how I felt. It scared the living hell out of me."

"But y' seem so, comfortable, now."

Spencer laughed. "Well yeah, now, Rem. It's taken me a lot of counseling and self-analyzing to get to this point. I had to accept that what I felt wasn't wrong, just different. That love, in any way, shape, or form, is exactly what we were intended to have in this life. The therapist I saw helped me see that no emotion is wrong. They're all a part of you, and if you deny them, you're denying who you are."

That seemed to set Remy back for a minute. His expression was so withdrawn, the way it always got when he had something serious to think about. That was fine. Spencer was used to that look from the many deep conversations they'd had during their friendship. It didn't mean that he was closing off; it just meant that he was thinking.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was soft and thoughtful. "It scares me, cher. I love Rogue, I do! I should want to spend de rest of m' life with her. Dat's _normal_. _Mais, merd_ e, when I see y' sometimes, m' heart picks up pace. Goin' to visist with y'—it's all I ever want. When y' laugh, I smile. When y'r sad and hurtin', it hurts me t'see it. All I wanna do is wrap m' arms around y' and chase it all away."

His words were lighting a fire inside of Spencer. He had never expected to have this kind of conversation with Remy. To hear him say the things he was saying. It had never seemed like a possibility. Now that it was here, he was almost speechless. Remy continued on.

"I lost interest in m' own girlfriend. I don't even try to hold her any anymore, let alone anyt'ing else. I don't never want to, not like I used to. I don't even t'ink about it! _Mais_ I get around y' an I just wanna touch y', all de time. I do it without even t'inking about it. An when I catch m'self, I just wanna do it more. How is dat normal? How is dat right?"

Taking the wonderful feelings that that gave him and locking them away, Spencer tried to focus on the more serious part of it. "Nothing is perfectly normal, Rem. Every person's version of normal is different to how they feel. To me, it's normal to want to touch you, or to enjoy being touched by you. It's normal to feel things for you that I don't feel for anyone else—that I have never felt for anyone else." He paused for a second and then shrugged. "As for right, well—who knows what's right for each of us? Are you telling me it's wrong for me to be happy? That the joy I feel when I see you laugh and smile is wrong? That loving someone is wrong just because the couple is different than what's considered normal or socially acceptable? Under that theory, interracial couples would be wrong too, because they're different and there are people who don't approve. Is that what you think, Rem?"

Shocked, Remy's eyes shot up to his face, wide with surprise and entirely open in that moment, all his emotion right out there to be seen. " _Non,_ Spencer! _Dieu, non!_ I aint racist!"

He was so offended, Spencer had to laugh. "I know you're not, Rem. I was just making a point. There are lots of things that are different from the normal way of life, but that doesn't make them wrong. Shouldn't we embrace love when we find it? Something beautiful like that is rare; it shouldn't be wasted."

" _Je ne sais pas,_ Penny. I don't." His lips quirked up in a wry grin and he reached up with one hand to rub sheepishly at the back of his neck. "It's hard to t'ink when I sit here with y'. Y' make it sound so…so _easy_. A part of me wants to believe y' when y' talk. _Mais_ dere's dat other part of me dat just falls back on what I've always been told—dat a relationship b'tween a man an another man is against nature. Dat it was never somet'ing God intended t'happen. He intended men and women to love an reproduce."

"So since I can't give you a baby, that means I can't be with you?" Spencer argued. "If a gay couple ever wanted kids, there are plenty in the world who have no parents at all, who live in foster homes." He was getting into their discussion, actually enjoying the debating of points. He had always loved debating with Remy. They'd had some of the liveliest discussions with neither one of them afraid to say what they felt. No one else had ever bothered to sit and talk with Remy the way that he did. No one seemed to see past the shields that he put up and down to the sharp mind inside. They saw the lazy image that he put out there and accepted it as truth. They didn't realize just how bright he really was.

A hint of a real smile broke through on Remy's face. He'd dropped his hands down to his lap once more and was mirroring Spencer's seated position, turned towards him so that they could look right at one another. "I t'ink we're gonna have to agree to disagree fo' now, cher. It's been too long since I debated somet'ing with y'. I need time to t'ink of m' own arguments. I know I had some valid ones at some point."

The grin that Spencer gave him was cheeky and a little smug. It wasn't a normal expression on his face and it made Remy's smile a little warmer. "I'll let you off the hook—for now. But," Spencer held a figure up. "For the moment, concede that I won. I made very valid points."

Remy took a seated bow, gesturing with his hand at Spencer. "I concede."

Something flashed through Remy's eyes, there and gone again so quickly Spencer wasn't sure that he'd seen it. But his emotions—God, his emotions! Spencer felt the way they changed, the good mood he'd been in suddenly plummeting with a sharpness that made Spencer flinch ever so slightly. That was something he'd never gotten used to and didn't think he ever would. The mood swings that came with things like depression could be so sudden and jarring sometimes.

They'd been doing so well with their debate here! Spencer had made sure to carefully monitor Remy's emotions while they did so he could know whether or not he was pushing him _too far_. They'd been doing fine! But now, now that they weren't talking anymore, now that he'd made his points, apparently it was all sinking for Remy and his mood was plummeting more and more with each passing second. Spencer watched as Remy reached over to his arm where he knew the bandage was hidden underneath his sleeve. Remy's emotions sunk lower and lower and Spencer wanted to cy for him. It felt like there was this dark pit inside of him, trying to swallow him whole, and he knew it was only an echo of what Remy was feeling right in that moment. That sense of self-hatred and disgust and so much _pain_ , all of it wrapping around him, sucking him down, ripping apart everything good that he'd just felt. In that moment Spencer was grateful he couldn't hear the thoughts to go with the emotions.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was curling his hand over Remy's wrist, stopping him from reaching under his sleeve to mess with his bandage. He'd leaned forward to do it and when Remy tipped his head up to look at him, Spencer realized just how close he'd gotten, how close their faces were. Remy's eyes went wide and the breath he let out was just the slightest bit shaky. "Spencer?"

Spencer's thumb stroked over the inside of Remy's wrist. He felt the man's pulse jump underneath his touch. Unable to speak, he simply stared into Remy's eyes. He knew what was coming, knew what Remy was about to do, and he couldn't bring himself to move or to even care. Once, just once, he wanted to know what it was like. He wanted to have this. Later, he would hate himself for being so selfish. But there, able to feel the pain inside Remy, the tiny thread of need and longing that wove through it all, he couldn't bring himself to stop this. Remy leaned forward and Spencer found himself holding his breath; he lost that breath when Remy's lips pressed hesitantly against his.

Oh, God! The kiss was by far the most chaste, sweetest kiss that Spencer had ever had, and it was perfect, so perfect. Remy was hesitant in his touch, his lips warm and soft, and Spencer gave it right back to him, not demanding but giving and taking with a tenderness that he could _feel_ Remy melting into.

The kiss was short and sweet, and when Spencer pulled back he could see the emotions swirling around in Remy's eyes just as clearly as he could feel them. Their kiss has left the both of them stunned and breathless. Neither one had ever been so affected by a single kiss so strongly before.

Spencer lifted his free hand and gave into the urge to trail his fingertips so lightly against Remy's cheek. "Think about it, Rem." He murmured lowly. "Something that makes us feel like that, how is it wrong? There's no way that some mystical creator who's said to loves us, who they say wants us to be happy—I just can't see how he would deny us these kinds of feelings, this kind of love. Just, think about it." That said, he forced himself to rise, to move before he did anything more or took anymore liberties. On slightly shaky legs he moved to the in-suite bathroom, not bothering to fully shut the door behind him. He'd just, he'd give himself a few minutes in here to calm down, and he'd give Remy a few minutes as well. They both needed it right then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be back until after Christmas, folks, so happy holidays!


End file.
